She Remembers
by Caitlin51
Summary: Jemma doesn't understand what happened to Ward. Before Hydra, she was falling in love with him. Now, she just wished that she could forget all those tender moments. BioSpecialist tragic drabble series, probably will end with TrippSimmons.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Okay, so I'm not really sure where this came from, but it appeared and I had to write it. Please let me know if I should continue!_

_Enjoy =)._

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><p>She remembers.<p>

She doesn't want to, but she can't help herself.

He's a monster, a dangerous monster that had nearly killed her and had caused brain damage to her best friend.

The knowledge that he was locked up made her feel safer, but she knew that she would never feel completely safe around him again.

Not after she found out what she was.

But today, today she had treated someone with a sprained ankle.

The memories came flooding back, despite her best effort to stop them.

…

"_Does this hurt?"_

_Jemma winced as Ward probed her swollen ankle with his fingers. He was trying to be gentle, but even the light touch sent shooting pain up her leg. "No," she lied through her teeth._

_Ward chuckled and shot her a disbelieving glance. "It's okay to admit when you're in pain," he advised, turning away from her to grab the ice pack he had made up to take the swelling down._

"_You never do," she retorted, flinching as the cold settled against her skin, wrapped in a cloth to prevent frostbite. "And you've been shot. Multiple times."_

_His warm hand closed around her calf, holding her leg steady. His touch sent sparks through Jemma's veins, and she looked at him, surprised._

_His gaze met hers briefly and she could see her emotion mirrored in his gaze._

"_I'm a specialist. It's my job," he replied, more brusquely than before._

_Swallowing and trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, Jemma replied, "And patching people up is my job. I can take care of this - it's just a sprain." She pointed to her ankle. Although she was protesting his attention, a part of her admitted that it felt good to see his obvious concern for her and his gentleness in ministering to her injury._

"_Think of it as a thank you for the many times you 'patched me up'," he mimicked her accent. "Besides, I'm the most qualified to deal with injuries.' At her pointed look, he added, "Other than you."_

_The ice pack shifted against her ankle, and Jemma bit her lip at the wave of fresh pain._

"_How's it feeling?" _

"_Ow," she replied through her teeth. _

_His thumb starting rubbing soothing circles on her calf as he held her steady. "Just a little longer, then I'll wrap it."_

_She nodded, not trusting herself to speak until the pain died down again. His touch was a useful distraction, though._

"_How did you manage to sprain it?" Ward finally asked the question she had been dreading. "You weren't involved in the fighting."_

_She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and she couldn't meet his gaze. He had just single-handedly destroyed a small personal army without so much as an injury, and she...well, she was an idiot. "It was an accident," she stated._

"_I figured that much. What happened?" With his free hand, he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes bored into her soul and she found herself unable to look away._

"_I...I wanted to help," she answered lamely. "There was fighting and I figured that if I could get close enough to the mansion's security system I could sound an alarm and call away some of the enemy."_

"_A second security breach," Ward nodded absently. _

"_Exactly. But," she hesitated, feeling her cheeks grow warm again, "someone found me and was about to shoot, so...so I fell down the hill and must have sprained it on the way down."_

_Ward glared at her. "You could've been killed," he stated flatly, his attention now completely on her story, her ankle forgotten. "What if he had followed you?"_

"_He didn't."_

"_Jemma," he threw up his hands in exasperation, "you're not a field agent."_

"_I was helping," she stressed. "And I'm fine."_

"_You have a badly sprained ankle," he pointed out. "And assorted cuts and bruises."_

"_You've had worse," she countered, even though she knew he was right. She wasn't trained for combat._

_Ward sighed and, grabbing the tensor bandage from her hands, started wrapping her ankle. "Just be more careful, okay?"_

_Nodding, she focused on his smooth movements as he would the bandage correctly around her injury, applying just the right amount of pressure. It hurt, but it was a manageable pain._

"_Keep it elevated," he instructed. "And Jemma?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Leave the combat to the experts next time." He softened his words with a genuine smile, which she returned, still touched by his concern._

…

She didn't know how to reconcile the caring man who had treated her ankle with such gentle ministration with the monster who had nearly drowned her.

It didn't make sense.

She didn't want to remember.

But how could she forget?

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><p><em>Please leave a review and let me know if you want me to continue!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Wow, I'm honestly surprised that people liked this story! But really happy - it's something I'm looking forward to continuing. It's very different from what I usually write._

_Enjoy and review!_

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><p>She remembers.<p>

It was because she saw him today, for the first time since the 'accident.' She was back, briefly, from her undercover assignment in Hydra. They thought that she was on a research mission, and she was, but she stopped by to see how Fitz was. She had to.

Unfortunately, everyone told her that Fitz spent a lot of time down in the basement, down in Ward's cell. They told her that he seemed to be drawn there, drawn to the man who had permanently damaged his brain. He wasn't allowed there alone after he had almost killed Ward one time, Skye told her, much to her horror. Triplett always accompanied him now.

Her heart started pounding, so frantically that it almost hurt, as she neared the door that led to Ward's prison, but she couldn't stop now.

She pushed the door open, preparing herself for the worst.

Nothing could have prepared her for the emotions that hit her at the sight of him.

The prison walls were invisible, so she could get a clear look at him. He was unshaven and dressed in all black, and his face seemed so much...older.

It was his eyes, though, his eyes as he saw her, that provided the most pain. They softened at the sight of her, and for a brief second, she was able to glimpse the anguish that he usually hid.

"Jemma," he breathed her name, just like he had so many times before. It was like a physical blow to the face.

She ignored him just like she ignored the tears pooling in her eyes. "Fitz," she forced out, turning her back to the prisoner and facing her best friend, sitting on the ground with his gaze unfocused. "How are you?"

Fitz didn't reply, didn't even look at her.

"He does that," Triplett explained quietly from his position standing next to Fitz.

With a quick glance at Ward behind her, Jemma asked, "Can we go somewhere else?" A tear escaped from her eye and slid down her cheek.

"Of course," Trip agreed. To Fitz, he added, "Come on, man. It's time to go."

Fitz obeyed silently, standing and walking to the door without waiting for Jemma or Trip.

"Is he-?"

"He's getting better," Trip reassured her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. "How about you?"

She muttered something inane, but her focus wasn't on the conversation. Ward's eyes haunted her. The last time he had looked at her like that was after she had jumped off the plane…

…

_Jemma sat straight up in bed, her breathing ragged and her skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat._

_It was the nightmares. Falling, always falling. But in her dreams, Ward was never there to catch her. No, she just fell for eternity, terrified and in pain, with never any respite. Never any hope._

_Taking a couple deep breaths to try and calm her rapid heartbeat, Jemma pushed her sweaty hair out of her face with her palms and sat there for a moment, waiting for the terror to subside._

_It didn't._

_Finally, she decided that she would go to the kitchen and get some warm milk or something else relaxing, something that would help her escape the demonic grip of the nightmares._

_She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, padding over to the door and opening it._

"_Couldn't sleep?"_

_Jemma threw her hands in front of her mouth, muffling her involuntary scream at the sound of Ward's voice coming from below her._

"_Sorry," the man chuckled softly. "I didn't mean to scare you." Looking down, she saw that he was leaning against the wall against her door, still fully dressed._

"_What are you doing here?" she whispered, confused._

_He patted the floor next to him and she obediently sat down, her curiosity driving away some of the residual fear from the dreams. "I remember the first time I almost died," he started quietly, not looking at her. "It changes you."_

_Biting her lip, Jemma nodded. She certainly felt different than she had before._

_Ward shifted so that he was facing her. In his eyes, she saw more depth there than he usually let show. Concern, pain, a tinge of softness. "And the nightmares take a long time to go away. Some never do."_

_Swallowing, Jemma asked, "What do you do? When they won't leave you alone?"_

_To her surprise, Ward lifted his arm and settled it around her shoulders, pulling her against his strength. "I cope."_

"_Sound lonely," she whispered, breathing in his masculine scent. It was soothing and more than slightly intoxicating._

"_I cope," he repeated, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her arm. "I'm used to it. Now," he ordered, "relax."_

_They sat there in silence, Jemma soaking up the comfort he exuded and allowing his presence to drive away the terror and the nightmares._

_She didn't know when she fell asleep, but she woke up the next morning in her bed, covered by her blankets._

_It almost felt like a dream, like Ward was never there._

_But it had been better than any dream could have been._

…

"Jemma? Jemma, are you okay?" The sound of Triplett's concerned voice broke into her thoughts.

"Oh, yes. Fine," she hastily reassured him. The arm around her shoulders, meant to be comforting, felt too much like the time Ward had comforted her. It felt controlling. "I just...I just need some time alone with Fitz.

"Of course." She winced as she saw the disappointment clear in his eyes at her dismissal.

She felt terrible - Trip was a wonderful man.

He just reminded her too much of Ward, bringing up painful memories that she couldn't avoid remembering.

But how could she forget?

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><p><em>Please review and leave ideas for future chapters you would like to see!<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Argh, SHIELD is stressing me out like crazy! Anyway, this fic takes place before Tuesday's episode, so Ward is still in the little prison cell in the basement._

_Enjoy and review!_

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><p>She remembers.<p>

It hurt.

Somehow, she ended up in that small room again, the room that held his cell. She didn't know why she was there, but her aimless nightly wandering had brought her there.

He had been asleep, but the sound of her entrance had woken him up. He had always been very sensitive to sounds, being a specialist, and she had expected for him to be aware of her presence immediately.

"It's good to see you again," he greeted her, swinging his feet over the side of his bed.

She didn't respond, didn't even look at him. The tears were starting to pool in her eyes, tears that she couldn't fight.

"Jemma," he tried to attract her attention. "Jemma, please talk to me."

"Why?" she asked, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat.

She heard him sigh. "Because you're here, and...and I want to talk. Like we used to."

Finally, she turned to him and met his gaze, her arms crossed defensively in front of her. Even the sight of him hurt. "We can't."

"Jemma," he insisted, coming close to the invisible barrier separating them, his eyes pleading with her, "I know that I did a lot of bad things. I killed, I lied, I hurt you. But please believe that what I felt for you-"

"-you also felt for Skye," she finished through clenched teeth. "I know. Everything."

"Skye meant nothing to me," he insisted, his voice soothing. "She was a cover. I had to protect you from Garrett, from danger."

"You pushed me out of a plane," she yelled at him, losing all attempts at self-control. "That's not protection."

"It was the best I could do, the only thing I could do to convince Garrett I had killed you while still giving you a chance at survival." He took a deep breath, then returned to his quiet tone. "And it broke my heart."

She couldn't take it anymore, couldn't handle being there anymore. Before she realized she was moving, the door slammed shut behind her and she was leaning against the wall, sobs wracking her body.

…

"_You're cold too," she protested, trying to stop Grant from giving her his jacket._

_He shrugged, regarding her with a slight smile. "Take it."_

_The late autumn night was breezy, and the wind cut right through Jemma's red sundress, making her shiver again. He raised a knowing eyebrow, and she finally caved and allowed him to place the jacket around her shoulders. "Thank you," she muttered, pulling the fabric closer and soaking up the warmth. It smelled like him, a heady aroma that made her head spin._

"_I don't know what else normal people do on a first date," he commented as they walked down the street towards the car._

_His words surprised her - it wasn't like the confident Grant Ward she knew to admit uncertainty. She smiled up at him, feeling the butterflies start up again in her stomach. She still couldn't believe that this was happening, that she was actually on an official date with him. It just seemed like such a fairy tale, but somehow it was real. "Well," she answered, "we could always-"_

"_Jemma, stop," he ordered suddenly, halting and falling silent in the middle of the street. In the quiet, she heard muffled screams and angry voices._

"_Grant?" she asked, confused and slightly nervous._

_She could tell that he was tense and on alert. "Something's wrong," he muttered, his eyes shifting from side to side as he took in their surroundings, looking for the source of the noise._

_A screech of tires caught Jemma's attention, followed shortly by a bright pair of headlights that blinded her. Her feet felt frozen to the ground. The car was headed straight towards her, but she couldn't move._

_Grant's body slammed into her and sent her flying to the ground. The breath whooshed out of her lungs at the impact. She felt more than saw the car go by, narrowly missing her._

"_Jemma, are you hurt?" Grant asked her, frantically helping her sit up._

"_They're getting away," she forced out. She couldn't already feel bruises forming on her arms and legs - she was going to be black and blue tomorrow. "And I think that I ruined your jacket." _

_Grant let out a frustrated breath and pulled her into his arms, holding her close to him. "Forget them. Forget the jacket."_

"_But-"_

"_You're safe. That's all that matters."_

"_But-" she tried again._

"_And I got the license plate. We'll get them." His hand stroked her hair. Jemma realized that she was shaking - it must be the shock._

"_Thank you," she finally whispered, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself down._

"_Jemma, I'll always protect you," he promised. "No matter what."_

_That promise calmed her more than any number of deep breaths even could. In his arms, she felt safe and protected._

…

"Trip?" she knocked on the door to his room, realizing that it was late and that he probably was already in bed, but still hoping that he might be awake.

There was a long pause, and she almost walked away, but the door finally opened.

"Everything okay?" he asked, taking in her tear-stained face and ushering her into his small room.

"Yeah," she lied, fully aware that no sane person would believe her. "I just...I just needed…"

"Shush," Trip said, enveloping her in a hug. "I understand."

It felt both so wrong, so reminiscent of Grant, and so right, so comforting, that she didn't know what to do.

Finally, she closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace, soaking up his comfort.

"You know," Trip whispered into her ear, "you still haven't introduced me to Doctor Who."

That made her laugh - a shaky laugh, but still a laugh. "I think it's time to fix that," she agreed pulling away. "And Trip? Thank you."

"Anytime."

They spent the whole rest of the night working their way through the first couple episode of the reboot, until Jemma feel asleep with her head on Trip's shoulder, feeling more at peace than she had in a while.

She still remembered, but the pain had eased slightly.

Besides, how could she forget?

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><p><em>Please leave a review and let me know if you're enjoying the story so far!<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry that I've been gone for a while...school has been a little crazy for me lately! Anyway, I'm back with the next chapter =)._

_Enjoy!_

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><p>She remembers.<p>

It was always the inconsequential things that reminded her, things that should have no effect on her, but somehow still do.

Today, it was his arms.

"What do you even do all day? Work out?" That was the first thing she had said to him that wasn't confrontational or full of anguish since she had discovered that he was a Hydra agent. It felt wrong, but familiar. Like their relationship used to be.

Ward was in his cell, doing push-ups, the movement smooth and easy. He wasn't even breathing hard. "Not much else to do," he replied with a faint grunt, pushing himself off the ground and onto his feet. His arms flexed with the effort, showing well-defined muscles. "I'm glad you came back."

She stared at him, saying nothing.

"I didn't want to leave things the way we did last time," he continued, approaching the barrier.

She flinched back as he neared, trusting that the barrier would hold but at the same time wishing that she could see evidence that it was there. "Jemma, please listen to me."

"Stop calling me that," she forced out, trying to keep her tears at bay this time.

"It's your name," he pointed out with a slight smile, the smile that she used to love.

"Agent Simmons, to you." Her voice trembled, but only slightly.

He shook his head. "Too formal."

"Appropriate for the situation, then."

"This isn't what I want for us, Jemma. Is there any way we could-"

"-forget that you are an insane murderer and still be together?" she finished hotly. "No, I think that is out of the question."

He chuckled, but the sound was full of pain. "I figured. So, why are you here?"

She bit her lip and looked down. "I don't know." It was hard to admit that to him - it felt too vulnerable, too much like their relationship had been.

"You're not over me. And that kills you."

"You don't know anything."

"I know you. Better than you know yourself, sometimes."

Jemma didn't know what she had expected to accomplish by coming, but it was just hurting more than she could handle.

She couldn't cry in front of him. Not again.

As she left, she saw him resume his push-ups.

…

"_You're arms are huge," she muttered absentmindedly as she dabbed at the blood clotting on his bicep gently with a damp rag. "Impressively huge."_

_Grant chuckled despite the pain he must be in from his bullet wound. "You sure know how to make a guy feel better," he joked, then winced as she applied a little more pressure to his fresh injury. "Ow."_

"_Sorry," she immediately apologized. "I didn't realize that you could actually feel pain."_

"_Or anything, right?" he asked, his tone suddenly much more serious._

"_I-"_

"_It's okay - everyone thinks that," he continued. "But I'm human too."_

"_I never said you weren't."_

"_But you want proof."_

_Jemma wouldn't admit it, but there was a part of her that didn't really believe that Grant could actually experience emotions similar to hers - he just seemed so stoic and calm all the time. Emotions were a luxury that he couldn't afford in his line of work._

"_For example," there was a teasing grin on his lips that she had never seen before, "I happen to be extremely aware that there is an incredibly beautiful woman standing only inches away from me, and that I'm currently not wearing a shirt. I'm sure you can imagine what I'm feeling."_

_A heated blush rose to Jemma's cheeks at his words and the intensity of his gaze on her. "I'm your doctor," she protested weakly. However, though she was supposedly a master of clinical detachment, she had to admit that she had spent a couple moments admiring his bare chest, noting the firm muscles under the taut layer of skin._

"_I don't see that as a problem," he whispered, leaning towards her._

"_But...your arm…" Words seemed very difficult to find with him that close to her. There were only inches between their lips now._

"_You talk too much." _

_Their lips met in a soft, brief caress, one that sent tingles through Jemma's body and made her shiver. It was short, much too short. Not much more than a peck, really, but even the slightest contact had a huge impact._

_The sound of voices floated out to them, making Jemma practically spring back just before Skye and Fitz came into sight, on their way towards her and Grant._

"_How is he?" Skye asked when she reached Jemma's side._

"_His arm...it was shot," she babbled inanely, still off-balance from the kiss._

"_Yeah, we got that," Fitz shot her a strange look. "You feeling okay?"_

"_Fine. Great."_

"_Am I all done?" Grant interrupted, the heat in his eyes promising her that they would pick up where they left off later._

"_Oh, yes."_

"_Thanks." He picked up his shirt and put it back on, careful not to move his injured arm more than necessary. "Can I come talk to you later about more painkillers?"_

_She smiled, fully aware that painkillers would not be the subject of their conversation. "Of course."_

…

Trip was waiting for her as she exited the room that held Ward's cell, his arms crossed in front of him and his back leaning against the wall. "You alright?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, walking right into his embrace as he held his arms open for her.

She and Trip had been spending more and more time together the last little while. Their relationship was purely friendship and much-needed comfort at this point, but Jemma knew that there was potential for something more, something that terrified her.

She didn't know if she could handle it after what had happened with Ward.

"Does seeing him help?"

She buried her face in his strong shoulder and swallowed. "I don't know. I need to do something."

"Whatever you need, I'm here for you."

"I know."

Still, she remembered all the painful memories of the times spent with Ward.

How could she forget?

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><p><em>Please leave a review!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Argh! SHIELD is making me so sad...Ward keeps getting worse and worse on the show. I mean, I didn't want a rushed redemption arc, but still some sort of hope for him would have been nice!_

_So, I decided to focus less on Ward this chapter and more on Trip and Jemma's relationship, so I hope you enjoy it!_

_Also, thanks to AgentMaryMaragaretSkitz for the idea!_

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><p>She remembers.<p>

It all hurts, but she couldn't run away.

He was like a drug - she couldn't get enough, even though she knew that it was affecting her relationship to Antoine.

Every day, she would go down to his prison, sometimes just sitting there quietly, staring at him, sometimes engaging in conversation.

Nothing helped.

Somehow, for some reason, she couldn't separate herself from him. Logically. it made no sense. He was a monster. A murderer. Her enemy. But, there was a part of her that kept holding on despite evidence that he didn't deserve a second chance. She kept hoping that something would change, that he would return to the man that she had fallen in love with. Their relationship seemed so long ago, yet still so powerful.

"Agent Simmons," a voice broke into her thoughts.

She looked up, seeing Coulson standing in front of her, his back to Ward's cell.

"Yes sir?" she asked, feeling her cheeks heat up. She didn't like anyone knowing just how attached she was to the prisoner, so she tried to plan her visits when it was unlikely that anyone else would be awake. That was why she was there at 3 am, sitting on the floor, staring blankly ahead.

"We need you." Coulson extended a hand to her and helped her up. "Skye and Trip's last mission went...well…."

"Is everyone okay?" she gasped, horrified at the thought of either of them being injured.

"Skye's fine."

"Then Trip?" she forced out, feeling the colour drain out of her face.

"Injured. He took a bullet protecting Skye. Needs medical attention, now."

Jemma brushed the tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm coming."

However, as she left, she couldn't help but sneak a glance at Ward's cell, once again wishing that things could be different.

…

"_i know you're scared," he whispered in her ear, his voice barely audible, "but you have to trust me."_

_She nodded minutely. Her heart was racing and her breathing was shallow and sounded far too loud in the confined space._

_The situation was so unlikely; none of them had planned for everything to go this badly. Yet somehow, it had._

_Grant and Jemma's covers had been blown far too quickly, prompting the need for a speedy extraction, which hadn't come. They had been left with two choices - get captured and killed, or run. It hadn't been much of a choice, really._

_Grant had grabbed her hand and had started pulling her, heading to the forest in search of someplace to hide until Coulson could make new plans for their escape._

_The hollowed out trunk of a decaying tree had been their best option, and that was where they were currently._

_The space was small, and Grant was large. Fitting both of them in brought Jemma close to the filthy, bug-filled walls of the tree trunk. Normally, that would be her biggest worry. However, right now, the men with guns out searching the forest where he highest priority._

"_Do you trust me?" Grant looked her intently in the eye. They were only inches apart and he was slightly hunched over in the confined space._

"_Yes," she whispered back, her mouth dry with fear._

"_Turn around," he motioned for her to face the wall away from the hole they had climbed in._

_Her eyes widened, but she obeyed. Immediately, she started feeling a prickling sensation on her back, all her muscles tightening as she expected to feel a bullet tearing into her flesh at any moment._

_Then, she felt Grant's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her body up against his. "Focus on breathing," he muttered, his breath hot against her ear. "Try to calm down."_

_It was easier to be calm when he was holding her like that. He exuded confidence, security._

_She leaned back against him and took deep breaths, hoping to slow her heartbeat and start making less noise._

_Later, she would realize the reason that he made her turn around - he was putting his back to the opening, between her and their enemies, so that she would have an added layer of protection if someone found them and started shooting. He was trying to save her life at the expense of his._

_Luckily, they remained safe._

...

Late that night, Jemma slumped against the wall, exhausted.

Antoine was going to be okay, thanks to all the effort she had put into saving his life. He had been in pretty bad shape.

Skye had felt so guilty - she knew that he had been injured while he was protecting her. Jemma hadn't been able to do anything to ease the other woman's emotions, mostly because she had never been able to cope with the thought of Grant getting hurt on her behalf, of dying to save her life.

"That's a pretty sight," a slurred voice mumbled from next to her.

Looking over, she saw Antoine, his eyes slightly open, staring at her with a half-smile on his lips.

"You shouldn't be talking," she scolded him, but she couldn't keep the brilliant smile off her face. "Or awake."

He tried to shrug, but the gesture turned into a wince of pain. "Didn't want to miss a moment I could spend alone with you."

"Antoine," she protested, "don't say that."

"Why not? There's something here, between us," he winked at her teasingly, "and we both know it."

She bit her lip. She had to tell him about Grant, about how terrified she was about getting into a new relationship with someone so similar to the man who had shattered her heart. "I have to tell you something," she finally started.

"You sound serious."

"It is serious."

With a weak hand, he gestured to the piece of bed next to him. "I'm all ears. At least until you drug me up again."

The conversation lasted long into the night, Jemma telling him things that she hadn't told anyone else, really letting him see inside of her.

He was perfect - understanding, attentive, non-judgmental as she teared up every time she had to mention Grant's name.

And, at the end of it all, he just held her hand in his gentle grasp and smiled. "I like you."

She laughed - his comment surprised her. She didn't understand how he could hear about all her baggage, all her heartbreak and bad decisions, and still want to pursue something with her.

"I didn't scare you off?" she asked.

"I don't scare that easily."

"In that case, I like you too." The words felt foreign coming from her mouth, but somehow right at the same time.

Still, the memories of Ward haunted her, making it difficult for her to consider starting something new.

How could she forget?

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><p><em>Please review and let me know what you think about the relationship developing between Trip and Jemma!<em>


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Okay guys, this will be the last chapter in this fic. I never planned for it to be super long anyways, but I feel like it's been a good progression and that this is the right place to end it._

_Enjoy and please leave a final review!_

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><p>She remembers.<p>

It was their conversation, this time, that triggered the memories, those formerly beautiful moments ruined by the truth.

"No one's making you come, Jemma," he told her. She could see the pain in her eyes reflected in his tense posture.

"I know," she whispered. She still hadn't figured out the reason why she kept coming back, day after day, to subject herself to this kind of anguish.

Antoine didn't mind - at least, he never told her that he did. She appreciated his understanding, but also saw how he sometimes looked at her, like he just couldn't figure out how she could still harbour feelings for a murderer.

"I'm glad you do, though," he continued, forcing a smile. It looked different through his beard, not really like the Grant she had known at all.

"Why did you make me love you?" The question rose, unbidden, out of Jemma's lips before she could stop it. It was the question that she had never been able to ask, the question that still tied her to him. "I mean," she tried to clarify, "was it all a big part of your plan? To find the pathetic, lonely scientist and play with her heart? Was any of it real?"

Ward sighed heavily and walked as close as he could to the barrier without actually touching it. "It wasn't part of the plan," he admitted softly, earnestly. "It was an accident - something that wasn't supposed to happen."

Looking into his eyes, she could almost believe him. But, then she remembered who he was, who he really was.

"But I'm glad it did," he continued, almost pleading with her. "Jemma, you know that I love-"

"Stop," she yelled, feeling tears start to stream down her face.

Before he could react, she hit the button that turned the barrier back to opaque and also cut off sound.

Then, she sank to the floor, her arms around her body, sobbing.

…

"_It's just a couple drops," she scoffed, peering up at the dark sky and blinking as a warm droplet fell onto her face. "It's not even enough to be called 'rain'."_

_Grant put his arm around her shoulders. "And you said that Skye checked the weather report?"_

"_It'll clear up soon," she promised, looking up into his face and smiling, still thrilled that somehow, she had been lucky enough to end up with Grant._

"_Good," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "I get the feeling that a downpour could ruin our picnic."_

_She just leaned against him, confident that the weather would cooperate with them. It had been Grant's idea to take a day off from SHIELD and head off for some time alone. She had decided to add a picnic lunch to their outing, and it was the first time in a long time that she had felt so relaxed in a long time._

_They reached the park just a couple minutes later, the sky still showing no signs of lightening and the occasional raindrops becoming more frequent._

"_You still sure that it's not going to rain?" Grant asked, looking at her fondly as she set up the blanket on the now-damp grass._

"_It wouldn't dare," she responded wryly, feeling the light rainfall gradually increase. "How do soggy sandwiches sound?"_

"_My favourite," Grant laughed, sitting down on the blanket next to where she was kneeling._

_Jemma abandoned her attempts to smooth out the blanket, instead sitting up against Grant and leaning into his strength. "This is nice," she said as she snuggled under his arm, ignoring the ominous rumble of thunder directly overhead._

_Grant paused, then shifted so that he was looking directly at her. "I love you."_

_She stared at him, frozen for a second with surprise, no longer even noticing the pouring rain soaking her clothes. "What?" she finally forced out._

"_Jemma, I love you," he repeated, his eyes soft._

_Tears built up in her eyes as she smiled. Those words...she had wanted to hear them from him for a while now, and it seemed more like a fantasy than like reality._

"_You could say something," he prompted her, a worried look forming across his face._

_She leaned in and kissed him enthusiastically, pushing him off balance so that they fell and she landed on top of him, her wet hair dangling in his face._

"_I love you too," she gasped, a little out of breath._

_Grant laughed and pulled her closer so that he could kiss her again._

…

"I love you, Jemma."

Jemma, just barely through the door, ignored Ward's words, though there was a pang of pain in her heart.

"Are you listening to me?" he demanded, his voice sounding rough. She couldn't tell if he was acting or not. "I love you - please believe me."

"Don't say that," she finally replied, her voice sad and quiet.

"I want to."

Jemma sighed and rubbed her hands up her arms, trying to gather her courage. "This is the last time you're going to see me," she told him, unable to meet his intense gaze. "I'm done. I can't...I can't do this anymore. Not to me, not to Antoi-" she cut off before she finished Trip's first name.

"Jemma," he begged.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew that she had to do this. "Goodbye, Ward."

"Call me Grant." His voice shook - the only time she had ever heard it do that. He never showed that much emotion. Was it real? How would she even know if he ever cared about her, or if it was all a trick?

"No," she shook her head, taking one last glimpse at him before she walked out of his life forever. He stood there, his fists clenched and every muscle in his body tight. His eyes...contained a deep grief, a sense of hopelessness. Real or fake, it broke Jemma's heart.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she left. The door slammed behind her with a sense of finality, like slamming a book shut. The part of her life that had contained Ward was now officially over, never to be reopened.

Besides, she had to find Antoine. There were three special words that she thought she would finally be able to say to him, now that she was done with Ward.

She found herself smiling, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She remembered; she couldn't forget.

But now, for the first time, the memories had no more power over her.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading, and please leave a final review!<em>

_~Caitlin51_


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